Of Heaven and Hell
by xfirexfalconx
Summary: Pain is good... when it is all you have ever known. Sophie x Silas. AU, OOC. Review... it only takes a moment!
1. xDisclaimerx

Disclaimer!

A. I do not own any rights to the DaVinci Code.

B. I do not know as much about the DaVinci Code as I would like... HENCE, this story is AU, or Alternate Universe. This means that things will be different from the book or movie. Characters will most likely be out-of-character. Situations that happened could be toyed with or deleted, and situations that never happened will arise. In other words, it's a spin-off, a what-if story. Do not send me reviews that complain about OOC-ness or that-never-happened-ness.

C. All poetry within is by Emily Dickinson, unless otherwise mentioned.

D. Please review. I like to know what people think.

This story will be updated as I familiarize myself with the story, its events and characters. It is indeed rated M for later chapters, and there might be spelling bloopers here and there, which will be cleaned up when I get my regular computer back.

Other than that mentioned above... enjoy the story. Thanks!


	2. Hope

_"My life closed twice before its close--_

_It yet remains to see_

_If Immortality unveil_

_A third event to me._

_So huge, so hopeless to conceive_

_As these that twice befell._

_Parting is all we know of Heaven_

_And all we need of Hell."_

Sophie Neveu looked up from her book of poetry. For a bare moment, she had been transported elsewhere; good poetry could do that. Even so, she had sought something calming, something comforting... and had found something that was anything but what she had sought.

"Emily Dickinson, my dear," she murmured to herself, closing the book and slipping it into her black cloth purse. "I think we both need to lighten up."

It was a difficult thing to do. She swept the London emergency room with her eyes, looking over each person with feigned interest. Patient, nurse, a fleeting glimpse of a doctor... Sophie sighed and turned her gaze to the black and white checkered floor. She could look until the sun came up, but she knew she wouldn't see the man who had been rushed in over an hour before.

And if the surgeons weren't careful, she never would.

Blinking, Sophie rubbed her eyes, which stung from both fatigue and the slight trace of iodine in the air. She had never been fond of hospitals, and the anxiety that she had tried to repress with reading came flooding back. It left her uneasy, and more tired than she had even been before. Still, there were questions that needed to be asked, and to be answered... there was only one man who could give her those answers, the same man who was in surgery at that very moment.

The albino, Silas.

For a brief span of time, he had been thought dead. _What a waste that would have been, _she thought dimly. Murderer or no, was there anyone else...accessable...who knew the inside workings of the Opus Dei like Silas? Was there anyone else who could soothe her curiosity about the last moments of the curator's life, the Bishop and the Teacher, the method behind the madness...?

_As if he will tell you anything? Even if, by some miracle, he survived, _her mind bitterly complained.

"You never know," Sophie said quietly, then flushed a bit when a man in line for the nurse raised an eyebrow in her direction.

_Robert thinks you're insane, _the little voice pipped up again. Sophie let out a long, drawn out sigh, and stood up to stretch the kinks out of her back. A glance at the clock told her that another hour was nearing it's close. She had read all of the magazines, the entire book she bought at the hospital gift shop, and hadn't heard a word from Robert Langdon for over two hours now. The look he'd given her when she'd scrambled for a ride to the emergency room had been withering at best, even though he'd promised to call her as soon as he could.

_"Curiosity is going to kill you," _he warned. _"All of this isn't over yet, and you're not safe until it is."_

_"Then I may never be safe," _she had replied.

_"...Be careful," _he said after a moment, closing the door behind her with a slam as she hopped into the back of a taxi. _"I'll call."_

But he never had, and all attempts to contact him resulted in being redirected to the drone of voice mail. Perhaps it had been her mother who had once said that her lust for answers, analysis and adventure would wreck her life. Sophie was beginning to suspect they had been right.

Suddenly, she snapped back into the present at the sound of footsteps walking in her direction. Lifting her head, she pushed a lock of her maple hair from her face, hoping she didn't look as zombified as she felt. It was a nurse, short with curly red hair and deep blue eyes; her age was only betrayed by the faint crinkles at the edge of her mouth, lines that may have indicated a good sense of humor. At the moment, her forehead was wrinkled with was either concern or disturbed nervousness.

Knowing the patient, she leaned towards the latter.

"The...patient... is out of surgery, Miss Neveu," the nurse replied shortly, eyes darting around the room as if expecting the gates of Hell to open somewhere. Yes, it was definately the latter.

"And?"

"... It was a success."

Sophie felt the ice in her chest melt away. "If it's not too much trouble, could you take me to see him? Or point the way," she added, seeing revulsion cross the woman's face. Superstition still lived in the city of London.

The nurse's mouth turned up in a bright smile. "Down the hall and third room to the left. I suspect the police will want him after you're done."

"Indeed," Sophie muttered under her breath, turning on her heel after returning the smile.

There was some hope, then. As dangerous or futile as it could turn out to be, there was some hope that her questions could be answered. She tried to form them in her mind as she walked, the clicking of her heels echoing faintly in the long and deserted hallway. But as she approached the room, 305, apprehension filled her mind until only one half-formed question remained.

_Why..._


	3. Cold

_"Elysium is as far as to _

_The very nearest room, _

_If in that room a friend await _

_Felicity or doom. _

_What fortitude the soul contains, _

_That it can so endure _

_The accent of a coming foot, _

_The opening of a door!"_

It seemed absurd to knock, but that's what Sophie did. After a second set of three raps, and yet no answer, she bit her lip ever so slightly and gently turned the knob of the off-white door. Although she opened it as quietly as possible, the hinges still gave a grumpy squeal, as if to object. In the back of her mind, Sophie fancied it a symbolic warning, like the one given to Dante on his descent to Hell.

_Abandon hope, all ye who enter here, _her mind whispered. It seemed fitting enough, for she knew not what awaited her on the other side of the door. Still, as she slipped inside the room and glanced about, her nerves slowly unwound and a tinge of confidence flowed back into her veins. The room was silent, save for the steady, even beep of the heart monitor in the corner, and there was no immediate movement from the hospital bed before her. Taking a breath, she moved forward.

The first thing that she noticed, with some grim amusement, was that the only thing whiter than Silas' skin were the sheets covering his form. Sophie stopped at his bedside, raising her hand and hesitating a moment before placing it lightly on his chest. She watched as her hand moved up and down in slow, deep motions; he was asleep. Although she knew that it would be some time before the police came around, it had been Sophie's hope that she could speak to him first.

_He would only clam up, _she thought with a sigh. _Then what would I do?_

"Don't touch me."

The sudden voice caused her to jerk backwards, almost tipping over an entire cart of medical supplies. She managed to fall back onto the nearby doctor's stool, adding a slightly sheepish look into her wide-eyed expression when it let out an obscene burst of air. Sophie quickly glanced the albino up and down, and frowned when she discovered that he hadn't even opened his eyes.

"You were awake that whole time," she accused, trying to calm her speeding heart.

"Indeed," he replied with the faintest of smirks. "And now that I know what was rapping at my chamber door, I wonder why little Sophie Neveu has graced my presence."

Chewing on her lower lip, the young woman felt a flicker of irritation at his aloof demeanor. "I came to... speak with you."

One snowy eyelid lifted gracefully, and for a few moments, Silas studied her with his ruby gaze. After a time, he closed his eye. "Why?"

Opening her mouth, Sophie tried to find words to the question that had been rolling in her own mind not minutes before. She ran her hand through her hair, glancing at the floor before finally speaking. "The police called the paramedics. You were brought here. I assume they want to question you, and I wanted to-"

"Of course," he interrupted, a trace of venom in his tone. "I couldn't simply be allowed to die."

Sophie paused. "...You wanted to die?"

Silas turned his head, looking directly at Sophie and pinning her to the chair with narrowed eyes. The look was like cold daggers, and his voice had lowered to a deadly hiss. "What I want means nothing in the eyes of God. Only duty exists."

She couldn't help but shiver. "I don't see what duty has to do with anything."

"I killed a member of the Opus Dei, people it is my duty to protect, and a servant of the Lord! It was a foolish mistake, and for that, I should have died!"

Silence fell over the two once more, and Silas looked away. Sophie felt as if she couldn't move, her mind processing this information. "You were a protector of the Opius Dei," she wondered out loud, folding her hands in her lap.

He gritted his teeth. "I still am."

"And they... protect you?"

"Yes!"

Looking at her hands, Sophie traced an invisible circle with her finger on her knee. "Then why," she asked slowly, "are you here alone? Where are they?"

When there was no reply, she glanced up. Silas had closed his eyes and turned his face from her. His hand, resting on his stomach, had clenched so tightly that it quivered. Perhaps this had been a mistake, after all...

"Miss Neveu?"

Sophie looked to the door, smiling slightly when the nurse from before stuck her head inside the room. "Yes, madame?"

The nurse's gaze flashed towards the bed, then back. "There is a man in the waiting room. He says that he wishes to see you as soon as possible... Very impatient fellow."

Langdon.

"I will be out in a minute, merci."

With a nod, the nurse quickly vanished. Sophie stood from the chair, brushing off her dark brown pants and shifting her purse to her left shoulder. Her emerald eyes settled on her pale companion once again, and she felt reluctant to leave. There was something... something she could feel in the air, a tense anticipation. But what was it...?

"I'm leaving," she said evenly, adding no tone to her words. "I'll be back tomorrow, with the police."

After waiting a few minutes in silence, she turned to leave. She made it about two steps from the side of the bed when numbing cold wrapped around her arm, yanking her back. Looking over her shoulder, she swallowed her nervousness as she realized that Silas had his hand wrapped around her wrist, and was slowly sitting up. When he finally stabilized himself with his other hand, he tilted his chin up to meet her gaze.

"You said you had questions," he said, his voice growing hoarse.

Sophie closed her eyes a moment, trying to ignore the weary look upon his face. "I asked them," she lied. Anything to get away from those garnet eyes, even if it meant not getting the answers she desperately needed. She should never have come there...

Tilting his head, the albino merely watched her expression. Finally, he released her wrist as he flinched with pain, and spoke as he lowered himself back down onto the bed. "I am tired... Do come tomorrow. I will be waiting," he murmured, closing his eyes.

She continued to gaze at him for a heartbeat more, a sense of wonder coming over her soul. With a shake of her head, she walked to the door and opened it once more. It let out its squeak of protest, and in the quiet it was even more deafening. With one foot out the door, Sophie hesitated, then turned a bit to look.

"Good night, Silas."

A pause. "Good night, mademoiselle."

Stepping into the hall, she closed the door behind her and muttered a quick prayer of protection, serenity and strength as she walked back towards the waiting room... She didn't know who needed the prayer more. Only morning would tell.


	4. Pain

_"I never hear the word "escape" _

_Without a quicker blood, _

_A sudden expectation, _

_A flying attitude. _

_I never hear of prisons broad _

_By soldiers battered down, _

_But I tug childish at my bars,- _

_Only to fail again!"_

"What do you mean, HE'S GONE!"

The desk clerks in the waiting room fell silent as Robert Langdon's yell was heard from down the hall. Giving one another a look, they both went back to work, but not before turning thier eyes to Sophie to see her reaction.

Sitting by the large bay window of the waiting room, the morning sunlight filtered through the leaded glass and draped across Sophie like a cloak of light. Some of the faint sunbeams reflected off of her dark hair, creating a soft halo about her face. With her eyes staring unblinking out the window, this is how Robert found her, and the irony of the almost otherworldy visage didn't escape him.

"Sophie..." he said, trying to get her attention. The way her eyes were glazed caused his stomach to twist. "Sophie?"

She barely heard his words. Inside her mind, Sophie was viciously calling herself a fool in every language she could think of, and inside her heart she felt a sense of loss she couldn't quite place. The sun had only risen five hours earlier, and already the day seemed like a total disaster. Lieutenant Thomas, a fairly new man on the Police Nationale, had been waiting for her and Robert when they arrived at the hospital, his face set in a scowl that wrinkled his young face into something like a bulldog.

_"It seems that Monsieur Silas was in better shape than we had thought," _he had growled, adding to his houndish features. _"You best come inside..."_

_"Alright," _Robert replied, following the officer towards the room. When she didn't go with, he had given her a look. _"Coming, Sophie?"_

_"If it's all the same, I'll wait here," _she muttered, wanting to stay away from the police.

The park across the street glittered with golden light. Sophie frowned, staring through the trees towards the horizon. Where was he, she found herself wondering, when his body was still fragile from his injuries? She blinked, hugging her purse to her chest and wishing that she knew.

"Sophie!"

Jumping a bit in her seat, Sophie turned and looked up at Robert. "Oh, I didn't see you there," she said absently, knowing it sounded lame.

He raised an eyebrow. "I noticed that. Are you feeling okay...?"

"I'm fine. I'm just...thinking."

His other eyebrow raised. "About?"

That was dangerous. "What happened to Silas?" she asked, changing subjects...almost.

"Good question," Robert sighed. He flopped down onto a chair across from her, eyes locked onto her. "Apparently, the Opus Dei's claims about having members everywhere is true. One of the doctors checked our dear Silas out to some sort of caretaker last night...shortly after we left the hospital."

Sophie rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand. Robert had come to pick her up only minutes after nine o' clock, taking her out to a dinner and then to her home. Had Silas known that member of the Opus Dei were so close? Had he known all along that by the time she returned, he would have vanished? A flicker of anger washed over her; she had been tricked. The worst part was that she didn't know why it angered her so. It should have been expected...

"But that's not the strange part. They found this on the bed."

Anger faded into interest as Robert pulled a small, folded piece of paper from his leather jacket. He held it out to her, and Sophie immediately felt her heart give a hard thump as she saw her name written in red across the front with smooth, sharp cursive. It was folded in such a way as to not need glue nor wax, almost artistic and oriental in appearance. After looking it over once more, she carefully unfolded the paper.

"Mist elle mene mare ei," she read, eyebrows furrowing.

"What?"

"That's what it says. _'Mist elle mene mare ei.'_"

Robert took the note from her hands and stared at the writing, then handed it back to her and steepled his fingers. "It seems French. Does it have any meaning to you?"

Mist elle mene mare ei. Mist elle mene mare ei. Mist elle mene mare ei...

"Well," Sophie started, pointing to the words as she went along. "_Elle _means 'it.' _Mare _means 'pond.' It doesn't make sense."

Stroking his chin, the man looked over her shoulder and out the window. "Strange...but there has to be some reason, otherwise why would he leave a note at all?"

Melle ist mene mare ei... Meet ills mene mare ei... Meet me inlls mare ei...Meet...me...in...

"Son of a bitch," Sophie whispered, scrambling to grab her coat and purse, and almost tripping over Robert in her hurry to get up. "Son of a bitch, I know what it means!"

He jumped up at the same time as she, following close behind her as she ran to the door. "What? What is it?"

"Annagram!" she breathed, running towards her black Mercedes car. "Listen, you stay with the police and try to find out who got Silas out of here. I'm going to find him and--"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Robert said, grabbing her door as she slid into the driver's seat. "Let me go with you. It's not safe."

Tightening her hand around the handle of the door, Sophie narrowed her eyes at him. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Robert. Why are you so scared to let me go?"

Silent for a time, he looked up and away. "Why does he have such an interest in you all of a sudden?"

"Is that what this is about...you're jealous? For Christ's sake, why does it matter why he has an interest in me? Why should I care?"

Letting go of the door, he stepped back and leveled his gaze at her. "Why should you care... What worries me," he said quietly, his eyes flickering with concern, "is why you think you shouldn't."

She couldn't reply, words caught in her throat. The two remained in silence for a moment, and Robert gave her a tiny, faint smile before turning and walking back towards the hospital.

"Call me," he called over his shoulder.

Sophie watched him go, a cold feeling creeping up her spine. Her mouth set in a firm line, and she slammed the door shut, but sat for a moment in thought. Robert's words had struck a nerve, and she was frightened to not know the reason. Finally, she sighed, turning the car on and heading towards the road. Hopefully, she would know soon enough.

Nearly a thousand miles away, Silas stood at the doors of the chapel in Marseille, eyes half-closed from fatigue. His midnight-colored cloak hid the blood-soaked bandages that wound about his abdomen, but nothing could hide the pain etched across his face, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. Any other day, he would have welcomed the ache of his wounds...pain was good. But today, just for today...

"Will she come here?"

Silas turned to look over his shoulder, forcing his expression to remain neutral as he looked at the hooded figure. "She will come. I am sure of it."

The figure stood still, then waved his hand. "Let us go inside. You must rest before your task."

Bowing his head, the albino monk began to follow the man. Silas looked up before shutting the chapel door, casting his gaze outwards to the city. For several, quiet moments, he looked out into the sky towards London. With a barely audible sigh, he shut the door and glided towards the heart of the building.

Today... just for today... the pain was unbearable.


	5. Marseille

_"Who robbed the woods,_

_The trusting woods?_

_The unsuspecting trees_

_Brought out their burrs and mosses_

_His fantasy to please._

_He scanned their trinkets, curious,_

_He grasped, he bore away._

_What will the solemn hemlock,_

_What will the fir-tree say?"_

Trying to keep her eyes on the road while she scribbled notes on a piece of paper, Sophie pressed on the gasp pedal in order to buzz through a yellow light. She heard a loud honk come from behind her, and stuck her tongue out at the rearview mirror.

"Listen," she hissed into the reciever of the handless phone, making a sharp right turn. "I don't care if you have to find him using your entire department or a crystal ball, I need you to find Bishop Aringarosa as soon as possible. You _will _be hearing from me before morning!"

Before the baffled receptionist could complain once more, Sophie pressed the disconnect button on the earpiece. Tossing the headset aside, she pulled up into the parkinglot of the Marseille Hotel and came to a stop. She turned off the car and leaned her head against the seat, closing her eyes and inhaling slowly. Releasing the breath, she attempted to relax her frayed nerves; it didn't work.

The twelve hour drive from London had given her plenty of time to go over the conversation between her and Silas the night before, picking apart everything that he had said again and again until her mind was spinning. Only two things had stuck in her memory, glaring at her like neon signs, until she could no longer ignore them.

_"I killed a member of the Opus Dei, people it is my duty to protect, and a servant of the Lord! It was a foolish mistake, and for that, I should have died!"_

After enough thinking, it had occured to Sophie that the only known Opus Dei member attacked by Silas had been Bishop Aringarosa... and it had, indeed, been an accident. A frown wrinkled her forehead as she opened her eyes and looked at the passanger seat. The notes she had taken echoed her thoughts. Although the Bishop had been severely wounded, he had not been killed.

_"I will be waiting."_

Sophie picked up the next page of notes. A call to Robert, who had sounded relieved to hear from her, confirmed that it had been a doctor-- one of the ones to have helped preform Silas' surgery-- that had signed him out into the care of a man that the doctor had identified as a member who had flown in from New York. The doctor had spoken to Silas, in fact, soon after he had come out of anethesia.

It was the fact, however, that Bishop Aringarosa had been... and still was, as far as she could tell... in the same hospital as Silas that surprised her. It was the same surgeon that had worked on them both.

Surely, one man would have asked about the other man's condition? Sophie looked out the window of the car, biting her lip. She briefly toyed with the idea that the whole bit about killing the Bishop had been faked, but the look of smouldering anger and grief that crossed Silas' face had been too intense. But...

He had known that he would be evading the police. The doctor had told him that much. However...no one had told him that Aringarosa was alive, and if they had told the Bishop that Silas was alive, surely there would have been some communication. Silas had left the hospital in the hands of an Opus Dei member from New York, thinking that he had killed Bishop Aringarosa...

_Mist elle mare man ei. Meet me in Marseille._

...And expecting her to find him.

Sophie grabbed her notes, her purse and her phone, opening the car door and stepping out into the night air. After checking the locks, she walked into the Hotel. A blond woman at the front desk looked up as she came in, offering her a wide smile of acknowledgement. Her namtag read 'Anne.'

Sophie returned the smile and came up to the counter, pulling out her credit card. "Hello. I would like a room," she said, holding it out with her identification card. "One bed."

The blond glanced at the card, and for a moment, Sophie thought she saw a flicker of apprehension. "You must be Mademoiselle Neveu," Anne replied, continuing to smile. "There's a room waiting."

"What?" Sophie stammered, staring at a small receipt that sat next to a room key. The paper had been stamped as being paid.

Anne cheerfully pushed the key in her direction. "Enjoy the city of Marseille, Mademoiselle. Room 305."

Feeling stunned, Sophie took the key and headed towards the elevators. Room 305...the same room as in the hospital. There was only two people who knew she would be here, and only one person who would have that kind of sick humor. She shook her head, stepping into the elevator and pressing the door-close button.

"Going up," she sighed.

Watching the doors slide shut, Anne waited until the numbered lights on the elevator began to move upwards. The blond clerk grabbed the phone, punching a few numbers and waiting for the other end to pick up. Her smile vanished into unease.

"Hello?"

Shivering at the dark, silky voice, Anne swallowed her fear. "Miss Neveu arrived and is on her way up."

Silas smiled from inside the hotel room. "Good."

A click told her that the man had hung up. Anne set the phone down, and crossed herself. With that done, she went back to her work. The fear of the ghostly man was enough to keep her from calling the police, as he had warned her not to do.

Even so, the clerk couldn't get the image of the albino man from her mind... or the foreboding grip of the gun she had seen at his waist, glittering just beneath his black robes and waiting for it's prey.


	6. Ensnared

A/N: A quick note. The location of the beginning of this fanfiction has been changed from Paris to London, in order to stay true to the events of theoriginal novel. Thank you.

* * *

_"The only ghost I ever saw_

_Was dressed in mechlin,--so;_

_He wore no sandal on his foot,_

_And stepped like flakes of snow._

_His gait was soundless, like the bird,_

_But rapid, like the roe;_

_His fashions quaint, mosaic,_

_Or, haply, mistletoe._

_His conversation seldom,_

_His laughter like the breeze_

_That dies away in dimples_

_Among the pensive trees._

_Our interview was transient,--_

_Of me, himself was shy;_

_And God forbid I look behind_

_Since that appalling day!"_

The silence in the hotel room was maddening. When he had first arrived that morning, every little creak of the floorboards or faint clips of conversation caused his muscles to tense in anticipation. However, Silas had been inside the room the better part of the day, and his guarded excitement had ebbed into tired impatience. Now, it was almost ten o'clock at night, and the phone had yet to ring.

Silas gazed across the room, eyeing the hotel bed. It was inviting; he had barely gotten any time to sleep. Most of the night and morning had been spent awake, driving through city after city and being informed on what had happened while he had been in the hospital. Though still trying to process everything, he had grasped the most essential sections of the news, and went over it again in his mind.

He had been found in the gardens of London, bleeding to death from his injury after he had brought Bishop Aringarosa into the hospital. Unconcious, he had been taken back to St.Mary's and stabilized. When he had awoken, a doctor... and member of Opus Dei... informed Silas of his location, and that the Teacher had been arrested. It was a shock to Silas that such a powerful man could be arrested. It was an even bigger shock when he was told that a new man had been appointed Teacher, long before the first ever fell to the police... as a safeguard in case that had ever happened. But the shock was replaced by loss when Silas has asked of the Bishop, only to have his worst fears confirmed.

Bishop Aringarosa was dead.

Feeling his eyes sting, Silas blinked furiously. It had been his fault, all of it. Then came that girl, with that flame-kissed hair and warm, emerald eyes...He had thought, mistakenly, that he had seen compassion in those eyes. Until she began to ask about Opus Dei, and he realized that all she wanted was to suck information out of him. He knew he shouldn't have cared, and yet...

_"It would have been Bishop Aringarosa's wish for you to finish the quest you have begun, Silas,"_ the new Teacher had said. _"We are so very close to the end."_

_"You need me as your weapon, then?"_ Silas asked.

The man smiled from under his hooded robes. _"Of course, Silas... one last time."_

He bowed his head. _"What is my duty...?"_

_"The cancer that is our enemy must be cut out..."_

And eliminated.

Silas turned his gaze from the bed to the window, staring out into the city of Marseille. The Teacher had chosen the location well. It had been long ago, but Silas knew the streets of Marseille from years of living upon them. As soon as his mission was complete, he could drive the back streets to the new Teacher, and have a one way ticket out of the miserable country for good. All he had to do was eliminate the Disease before it spread.

_Sophie..._

Her image danced in his mind again as he stepped away from the windows and towards the deepening shadows of the room. The gun felt heavy in his hand. He had killed the guardians of the keystone, and her Grandfather. He had nearly killed her companion, Langdon. And now...

The phone suddenly rang, and Silas cast a baleful look in its direction. After the third ring, he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Miss Neveu arrived and is on her way up," the blond clerk whispered on the other end. He could hear the tremble of fear in her voice, and it made him smile.

"Good," he replied, and hung the phone back on its reciever. Glancing down at the gun, his finger flicked off the safety. The girl had taken the bait, and had finally arrived, as he had expected.

The new Teacher's instructions echoed inside his thoughts, clear and to the point. By the time he muttered them to himself, Silas could hear the sound of a key in the room's lock, and slipped back into the shadows of the room near the door. A cold pit formed in his chest, and as he saw the slender form of his prey walk right past him, it only grew colder. Without making a noise, he slid behind Sophie to block her only escape.

Setting her purse upon the bed, Sophie brushed her hair out of her face. The room was quiet, and the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. She was not alone. Sweeping her eyes around the room to look for a potential weapon she could use, she felt a coil of worry rise in her throat. There was nothing but an angel statue to her right, and even if she grabbed it, she would be dead before she had a chance to use it in any way.

"We meet again," the cool voice said from over her shoulder.

"So we do, Silas."

Raising his weapon, the albino began walking towards her. "I deeply regret cutting your visit so short, but I am a busy man, and this bullethole in my side is getting rather fiesty."

Sophie looked over her shoulder, and he could almost make out a glint of humor crossing her face. "Room 305. Quite the sign."

He cocked the gun. "I thought you would appriciate the irony between a room of healing and one of death. Too bad you won't have very long to do so..."

Her heart skipped a beat at the weapon's click. Gods, he really was going to shoot her. Sophie couldn't take her eyes off the monk, her mind reeling as she wished she could figure out the strings that were moving the living puppet... or cut them. There was only one way...

She turned slowly, facing him with a strange calm that seemed to well up from inside. "May I ask one question, then, since I came all this way?"

Silas pointed the muzzle of the gun towards her head. "Just one, Miss Neveu."

"Why?"

The question, identical to the one he had asked her in the hospital, caused Silas to pause. "Why...?"

Shrugging, Sophie tried to appear casual. "Why did you kill my Grandfather? Why are you working for Opus Dei? Why are you letting them use you like this?"

"They're not _using _me," he snarled, anger surging through his veins. "You Grandfather was trying to destroy the Church and turn both God and Christ into nothing but lies! This false Grail must be eliminated before it ruins everything. I am only protecting the divine greatness that is our Almighty Lord!"

"But if you serve God," she pressed, "does He not teach that one is to forgive friend and enemy alike? Does He not speak against killing? Is it truly God's will that this be done, or the will of a man that is imperfect and hungry for power?"

Silas' trigger finger seemed to go lax, the look on his face impossible to read. The passion and conviction behind her words was moving, he could give her that. His soul struggled, trying to recall the moments before and after he was shot; something in her words was trying to call forth memories from beyond a mental fog. But _what?_

Sophie bit her lip. "Silas, if Opus Dei is trying to hide this big of a secret from the entire world, what are they willing to hide from _you_?"

"Goddess or demon," he finally responded, tightening his hold on the trigger once more and aiming at her head. "I know not what you are. I'll make your death painless for your efforts, either way."

_Damn it, _she cursed, closing her eyes. It had been hopeless, after all. He believed their deciet, and with no where to run or hide, all she could do was await for the end...

The sound of an electronic version of the _Adam's Family _theme song caught them both offguard. Silas blinked, staring at her purse with a mixture of irritation and amusement, then glanced back to Sophie. Her heart was pounding so wildly she could hardly breathe; that ringtone! Oh, gods, if only should could answer the call!

"Silas," she pleaded, opening her eyes and raising her hands a bit to show they were empty. "Please. I need to answer that phone."

He regarded her with an even expression. "So you can scream for help? I'm not completely stupid, Miss Neveu."

"You don't understand!" Sophie yelled. "You ARE stupid if you don't listen!"

Blinking, Silas was taken aback at her sudden flare of rage. Though his mind snarled at him to shoot and be done with it, something else tugged in his chest, and he lowered the gun. The minute the weapon was pointed at the floor, Sophie dashed to her purse and ripped it open to grab the phone.

"Hold it up," he said quietly. "Any wrong words, and you're dead."

Sophie felt a flash of hope as she flicked the phone open, turning the volume to its max as she held it up for him to hear. "Sophie Neveu speaking," she said, fighting the quiver in her voice.

"Miss Neveu, this is the secretary for Captain Fache," the phone blared. "We have gotten a trace on the whereabouts of Bishop Aringarosa."

The gun nearly dropped from Silas' hand as he heard the speaker's words. She could see his eyes widen, body suddenly trembling, and she felt a wave of sympathy for him. Silas held his breath, waiting for the speaker to continue.

"And?"

The secretary sighed. "Yes, he is alive, and in the intensive care unit of the St.Mary's hospital in London. The Captain himself spoke to the Bishop privately last night, informing him on the death of his student, Silas. Would you like me to conta-"

"Thank you, madame," Sophie interrupted, shutting the phone when Silas grasped the nearest chair to steady himself, his entire body shaking violently. She heard his gasps for breath, and after a moment she wondered if he was hyperventilating. "Monseuir?"

"He...he's..."

Moving quickly, she grabbed and slid a wastebasket into his reach as he sank to his knees, looking sick. Sophie wandered into the bathroom while he retched, coming back with a cool towel and kneeling at his side. When he finally quieted, she placed her hand lightly on his back.

"May I?" Sophie asked softly.

Avoiding her eyes, his face became etched with defeat. Taking that as answer enough, Sophie gently ran the damp cloth across his face. "My mother used to take care of me, when I was ill," she murmured, stroking between his shoulderblades as she dabbed his forehead and mouth. "Before she..."

"Was murdered," Silas finished, his growing dark.

Eyeing him, she tossed the cloth next to the wastebasket. "Yes. Before she was murdered."

The silence that followed lasted almost ten minutes. His shivering began to fade, and his breathing became more even. Even so, she kept her hand upon his back, whispering words of comfort. After a time, he raised his crimson eyes to her emerald ones, and her words faded into the stillness of the room. Sophie could almost see memories in his gaze... memories from those days not too long ago when he had been tossed into the backseat of a car and the cargo hold of a plane, of the day when he had seized her and held her in his arms...as hostage.

And now he stood, and she rose with him, transfixed upon those glittering, garnet hues. Silas found himself similarly ensnared, and hesitated before reaching out to touch her cheek. The two remained quiet a heartbeat more, before he broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Sophie," he whispered.

Terror seized her as he raised his gun and fired.


	7. Escape

_"I hide myself within my flower,_

_That wearing on your breast,_

_You, unsuspecting, wear me too--_

_And angels know the rest._

_I hide myself within my flower,_

_That, fading from your vase,_

_You, unsuspecting, feel for me_

_Almost a loneliness."_

The roar of the gun had left Sophie cowering on the floor, curled up in a ball with her arms covering her head. Except for the rapid pulsing of her heartbeat in her ears, there was no sound, her hearing dulled by the sudden explosion only inches from her head. Her racing thoughts quickly told her that she was not bleeding, nor in pain. She was alive.

A strong hand wrapped around her arm and dragged Sophie to her feet. Fear was replaced by confusion when she tilted her head up to look at Silas' tense face, then followed the direction the gun had been pointed. The angel statue that had been sitting on the table was shattered against the wall. She could see a small black object laying in the middle of the smashed, painted glass. A few white sparks jumped from the neat, round hole in the middle of it.

"What...what _is _that?" Sophie asked, frowning and turning her face back towards Silas.

He grimaced, letting go of her arm, but refusing to look at her. "Let us just say that the room was bugged. Now it is not."

"How did you know...?"

"I've been in here since early this morning," Silas muttered, clicking the safety of the weapon back on. "I had plenty of time to plant it before you got here. But considering that bullet was meant for you, mademoiselle, I doubt the reason is of much importance."

Sophie felt a shiver go through her body. The tone in his voice was flat with a hint of steel behind it, the same tone she had heard in her Grandfather's voice when people had laughed at his theories, a sound of anger trying to cover a deeper wound. Silas was putting the gun in its holster, a glassy look in his eyes that affirmed her thoughts. She sighed, her fear slipping into anxiety.

"You're not going to kill me," she said, knowing it was more of a question than the firm statement she wanted it to sound like.

Silas didn't reply, and her fear returned. Sophie took a step back as he took a step forward, until he had backed her up against the wall, their bodies only inches apart. Tilting his head, he leaned in close, one hand on either side of her body. Her form went rigid.

"I have killed many," he purred in her ear, his breath teasing her neck. "I've had so much blood on my hands... All this time, I thought that I was doing the work of God. Then..."

Swallowing roughly, Sophie struggled not to cry out. "Then?"

He laughed, a quiet sound that held no mirth. "Then a little French sprite stuck her nose into my plans..."

She felt her breathing stop. His hands shifted, moving from the wall and each one lightly touching either side of her face. Silas turned his head so that he could see her, the corner of his mouth tilting up into a slow smirk at her wide-eyed expression.

"And the little sprite," he continued, "was full of questions. This would get her in a very bad situation...very bad indeed."

"What situation?" she choked out, her mind imagining lines of frost appearing where his ice cold hands touched her skin.

Silas smiled, which made her shiver again. "You see, there was a man," he murmured, his smile fading as he toyed with a lock of Sophie's hair. "Who was sent to silence the sprite before she asked the wrong questions..."

Sophie closed her eyes, wanting to fight against his touch. But his voice was hypnotic and she needed to hear more. "And what happened?"

"The sprite managed to ask the wrong questions... at the right time. The man realized that the people who sent him to silence her had lied and the man began to wonder..." Silas trailed off, frowning.

Opening her eyes, Sophie looked up at Silas. His eyes were turned towards the window, as if he were seeing something far away. "The little sprite would have liked to know what the man wondered," she said softly.

His eyes flickered shut just as a blaze of anger coursed through him and by the time they opened again, the emotion was gone. "They told me that Aringarosa was dead. They told him I was dead, all the while they knew we were both alive. Then, the one who ends up telling me the truth is the girl they want me to kill. Tell me, little sprite, what am I supposed to think?"

"Silas, Opus Dei is trying to hide the secrets I know from the world. You know what they've done to accomplish that and now they've been hiding things from you. Please, believe me," Sophie stressed, her eyes bright with restrained emotion. "If we could just--"

Sophie's words died as he raised a finger and pressed it lightly to her lips, a sign for silence. She quieted, watching as he turned an ear to the air and listened. At first, Sophie couldn't hear anything special; the tick of a clock, the sound of running water in the next room. But as she focused, she heard voices, low and angry. They were getting closer.

"Damn it," he hissed, pushing off the wall. "Get your belongings. Now."

Complying without protest, Sophie grabbed her purse from the bed and shoved her papers inside it. There was authority in Silas' voice that she wasn't about to question and since he had admitted that someone from Opus Dei wanted her dead, she would follow his commands...

... For now.

Silas walked to the door, trying to keep his panic under control. He'd wasted far too much time talking to the little brat, wasted far much time being so close to her when they should have been running. And now, with the listening device ordered placed in the room destroyed by Silas' own weapon, he knew that someone would come to make sure the job was done. The Teacher had said as much.

_How quickly I gave in, _Silas thought bitterly. Even though the phone call Sophie received had exposed the layers of deception that Silas had been wrapped in, there was anger in learning that his entire life had beem a violent, blood-stained lie.

"I'm ready," the girl called quietly, breaking through his thoughts.

He looked over his shoulder. Sophie stood a few feet behind him, her hands clutching the handles of her purse so hard that her knuckles were white. There was a look in her eyes that tugged at his soul and Silas suddenly wished he could protect her from whatever was waiting outside the door. The feeling was alien but strengthened his resolve to get them both out of the hotel... alive.

"If it helps," Silas said as he held out his hand to her, "I believed you from the moment you got that phone call. Now it's time for you to believe me... I'm not going to kill you."

Sophie hesitated only a moment before taking his hand, slipping her fingers among his. He pulled her to his side and reached for the lock of the door, turning it slowly. The door opened without a creak and Silas leaned out to peer into the hallway. The direction to the left of the room was empty but as he looked to the right, his blood ran cold.

_They got here rather quickly, _he mused. _I suppose the bullet in the bug may have piqued the new Teacher's interest._

Two men, dressed in black robes, were going from room to room. They knocked until someone answered and then quickly turned away. Silas sighed inwardly, pulling back into the room and regarding Sophie evenly. It took him less than a second to determine if the effort would be worth it.

"You're going to do exactly what I say. Understand?" he asked, dropping his voice to a bare whisper.

Sophie shifted from foot to foot, biting her lip and tightening her grip on her purse. She nodded, trying to ignore the fact that she missed the comfort his touch had given her and the odd fact that it had given her comfort at all. Whatever was outside in the hallway, it wasn't going to be pleasant. She needed to clear her mind of all thoughts except one... Escape.

"Good," he muttered, opening the door again and quickly checking the location of the men. They were less that thirty feet away, A woman was yelling at them for waking her up. Silas stepped out into the hallway, swiftly pulling Sophie out and pushing her in front of him. "Out the lobby. Walk quickly but do not run until I tell you."

_Easy enough, _Sophie thought. She kept her eyes on the floor, the oriental pattern repetative and calming. Silas hadn't let her get a glimpse of the other half of the hallway and, in truth, it was probably better that way. Her mind wanted to run; she would get her chance soon enough.

"Silas?"

The strange, deep voice made Sophie jump. She almost ran but a cold hand on her shoulder kept her from bolting. "Shh.Not yet..."

"Silas!"

"Now?" Sophie hissed.

"SILAS! DAMN YOU!" the voice roared and the sound of feet running across carpet soon followed.

"Now," he agreed.

Sophie needed no further encouragment. Her feet took over her body and she tore through the hallway with speed a cat would have envied. Silas was at her heels but still seemed to have control over his commen sense for when Sophie ran for the elevators, he grabbed her arm and dragged her into the stairwell.

Sophie found herself being shoved down the stairs. "There's not enough time!" she groaned, taking the steps two at a time and almost tripping as they began to blur together. "I'm going to fall down these damned things..."

"If you fall then I'll catch you," Silas growled. "Just _run, _will you?"

Shouts filled the stairway and Sophie could hear people storming along behind them. _I hope he's serious, _she thought, swallowing her panic and racing down the stairs as fast as her feet would carry her. A fall at this speed...

"STOP!" their pursuer screamed. "Stop, or else!"

One flight...two flights... Sophie felt her lungs burning in her chest. Where was the door to the blasted exit? Wait... a door! The sign next to it read "lobby" and she almost cried in relief. Maybe they were going to get out of this after all.

Silas grabbed her arm as she began to slow. "Not there!"

"But--"

"I know you're confused," he breathed, pulling her behind him as they neared another door. "But trust me, for the sake of God."

Without waiting for her reply, Silas opened the door to the lower level of the building and yanked her inside. The hallway before them was dimly lit, revealing six more doors. The only one Sophie saw was the one at the end of the hallway, with the glowing "exit" sign above it. She began to run towards it, only to be jerked in another direction yet again.

"Here," Silas said, pulling her through a small metal door on the right. "We have only a few seconds."

Sophie looked around the room as the albino shoved a wooden desk in front of the entrance. It seemed secure enough and, so far, no one had tried to knock the door down. Except... She swept her gaze around again to make sure she saw correctly, then felt her chest clench.

"There's no exit! You just barricaded us in!"

"_Ou contraire, _little sprite. Look for yourself."

She looked in the direction Silas pointed and nearly giggled. "No way."

"I suppose the staff uses this... it leads directly to a room inside the lobby. I told my...associates... that I would be using the exit down this hallway. With any luck at all, they will not expect us to go back up."

"I don't know if you're the brightest man I've ever met... or just insane."

He smiled and this time, she didn't shudder. "I won't dissuade you from the former, though it's likely a bit of both."

With the press of a small, white button along the wall, the metal doors slid open. Silas stepped in and Sophie followed, pretending to study her purse. The elevator had been cramped enough for one person; only by flattening her back to Silas' chest was Sophie able to just fit inside the tiny box.

"I'll have to cut back on the chocolate," she laughed, though it sounded forced, even to her ears.

"Or stop bounding around with Disaster."

A mischievious glint entered her eyes. "Must I? I was just starting to enjoy your company."

Silas muttered under his breath but before Sophie could grill him over whatever he'd said, the elevator came to a halt. They both fell silent as the doors opened, revealing the lobby. The only people visible were the clerks, all busy at their desks with one thing or another. It was quiet and the bright lights would afford no place to hide in case they were spotted by the wrong people.

"Shall we?" Sophie asked, her hand tightening around his.

Putting up the hood of his robe, Silas gave her hand a small squeeze in return. "After you."

Sophie stepped out into the light, keeping as close to Silas as possible. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anyone who might have stared at them a moment too long. A few clerks looked up but went back to work, uncaring. Silas led her toward the lobby door, allowing her to act as the lookout. The woman should be able to sense if something was wrong--she seemed smarter than most.

Feet from the door, a familiar, digital jingle broke the deadly silence.

"Damn the Adam's Family! I've changed my mind," Silas fumed. "I _am _going to kill you."

"Sorry!"

"Not as sorry as you're going to be when I--OOF!"

Suddenly, Sophie jerked him foreward, flying out the exit and into the night. He was about to snarl at her when the sound of gunfire and screaming clerks persuaded him to start running.

"Car! Car! Car!" Sophie wheezed, fumbling with her purse and yanking out a set of keys. She flung herself the last few feet toward her car, popping the locks with the click of a button.

Silas flung the door open and scrambled inside with the speed only pure adreniline could give. "Go, go!"

"Going, dammit!"

The key slid into the ignition, bringing the car to life in a matter of seconds. Sophie kicked the car into reverse, hitting the gas and turning towards the road. A second gunshot resonated through the air as the back window exploded. Another click put the car into drive and true to its reputation for being a speedy beast, the Mercedes roared from the parking lot. All the while, the Adam's Family theme rang cheerfully in her purse.

"Goddamned son of a..."

Gasping for air, Silas lay against the seat, listening in awe as the flurry of profanities poured from his companion's mouth. Every nasty word he had heard over a lifetime Sophie snarled within seconds, and she soon began to make up new ones that would cause a sailor to blush.

Her cellphone began to ring again. When Sophie showed no signs of letting up from her screaming rant, Silas picked it up and let the caller get an earful involving intercourse and chickens before holding the phone to his own ear. "Hello?"

Robert Langdon, hearing the screaming, was stunned into silence. "This is...Robert. Uhm...is Sophie...?"

"A bit stressed at the moment, I'm afraid. Your ill-timed call nearly got her shot and has apparently damaged her...I quote... goddamned expensive car."

Sophie took a breath, seeming to have run out of ideas. "Damned...damned little..."

"Fuckers?" Silas offered, still holding the phone to his ear. Robert choked on the other end.

"Damned little fuckers!" Sophie declared, cutting off an old woman and blowing the yellow light.

Robert set his phone down a moment, staring at it as he heard the loud blare of a car horn and another string of indecentcies. What the hell was going on?

"Are you there, Robert?" the male voice asked casually.

Picking up the phone, Robert sighed. "Silas, I presume."

"Indeed," the albino replied, wincing as the car took a sharp corner and skidded. "Listen carefully. Your little cryptographer has landed herself in a rather unattractive city. Now, not all the people that would like to see her dead are going to be as civil as I. So, I have a proposition."

Robert heard Sophie go quiet and fear trickled into his mind. He had warned Sophie not to go and now his worst dreams were coming true. "What kind of proposition?"

Silas glanced at Sophie, who had paled. "Bring everything the police and anyone else has on offenses made by Opus Dei to Notre Dame de la Garde by Thursday night. That gives you three days to collect every resource you can find. If a member so much as burped during a meeting, you will bring records of it to me. Borrow, bribe or steal if you must. If you do this, you might see Mademoiselle Neveu alive again. Understood?"

There was a long pause. "Understood."

"Excellent. Remember... Notre Dame, by nightfall on Thursday. Good luck, Robert."

The line went dead and Robert slumped in his chair. Looking at the clock, he hung up his phone, then dialed the number for Captain Fache. Three days...


	8. Checkmate

_"While I was fearing it, it came,_

_But came with less of fear,_

_Because that fearing it so long_

_Had almost made it dear._

_There is a fitting a dismay,_

_A fitting a despair._

_'T is harder knowing it is due,_

_Than knowing it is here._

_The trying on the utmost,_

_The morning it is new,_

_Is terribler than wearing it_

_A whole existence through."_

Robert sunk onto his bed inside the Jesmond Dene Hotel in London, the small clock on the wall telling him that it was nearly one o' clock in the morning. It had been over an hour since he had attempted to call Sophie and instead had gotten in touch with someone he would rather have forgotten about long ago.

_Silas..._ The very sound of the man's voice had frozen Robert to his chair, and knowing that Sophie was in the albino's grasp had brought all of his fears to life. He had told Sophie not to go alone; now her life was more in danger than ever before. Robert only had one choice, and that was to get Sophie back safe and sound. There was only one man that could possibly give Silas what he wanted.

The elevator music on the other end of the phone droned on. Robert rubbed his forehead, wondering if he would get connected this time or if the operator would come back on the line to tell him that he was being redirected yet again. He was on hold for at least the fourteenth time that night, even though he had called the moment he'd been disconnected from Sophie's line. His eyes were beginning to close when a gruff voice suddenly snapped in his ear.

"What do you want?"

"Captain Fache," he replied wearily, "this is Robert Langdon. I'm sorry to call so late but... I have a problem and I need your help."

A snort. "You always have problems, monsieur."

"Sophie Neveu has been kidnapped."

The captain sat upright in his chair, spilling his cup of coffee. "Kidnapped! What do you mean, she was kidnapped?"

With a sigh, Robert recounted the earlier phone conversation. Fache grumbled randomly as he tried to dab the drink off of his paperwork and himself with a wad of napkins. When Robert mentioned Opus Dei, Fache paused, the coffee-soaked paper still in hand.

"He wants the records on Opus Dei?" he asked, throwing the napkins into the wastebin. Fache frowned and reclined in his chair. "For what purpose?"

"'Borrow, bribe or steal if you must' were the exact words. I assume that he or someone in the organization wants to destroy them. He offered to give Sophie back alive in return for the records."

"Of course," Fache replied, doubt entering his voice."However, he must know that he would never get the original records, if he got anything at all. At the most, he could only get copies and it would be highly illegal."

"I thought as much but the last I recall, kidnapping was illegal as well."

Fache went silent. Robert sighed again, reaching for a bottle of painkillers on the dresser next to the bed. A headache was slowly beginning to form on top of the rising panic he felt over Sophie's disappearance; being awake was becoming a chore.

"Monsieur Langdon?" the captain finally asked, sounding farther away.

"I'm here," Robert replied, tossing a Tylenol in his mouth._ Just barely_.

"I may be able to help in this situation. It's... unconventional but it may work. I will have to call you back. One moment, monsieur."

The dial-tone sounded before Robert could say anything more. He sat the phone down next to him on the bed, trying to count how many times he had been hung up on that night. Shaking his head, he lay down upon the rock-hard matress, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the phone to ring. Knowing Fache, it would be a long wait.

As his eyes drifted shut, he saw Sophie in his mind. Her smiling face, full of light, and the eyes that held a barely concealed playfulness. Behind the cheerfulness and mischeif was a soft nature, but Robert had sensed a determined power that came with overcoming struggles and inner turmoil. She was both sweet and strong... Robert found himself missing her terribly.

Sophie had waltzed into his life at just the right moment, saving him from a fate that most surely would have involved being sent to jail. Her quick wit had helped him many times on their journey, whether it was solving a riddle or keeping him smiling with her easy humor. Even so, the girl had always seemed to stumble right where she shouldn't, and now her penchant for finding trouble had caught up to her.

Robert looked out the window towards the night sky. He hadn't forgotten the kiss they had shared the day before, though it seemed as if the hours had stretched into years. Sophie had smiled at him, affection dancing in her gaze. It had felt so... right. Then came a phone call, the message draining all color from her youthful face.

_"That...was captain Fache. It seems that our albino acquaintance is still alive," _she said cautiously, her arms stiff as if to prevent jostling a wound.

_"Oh,"_ Robert had replied, unsure of what to say. _"What does that have to do with anything? It's not our problem anymore."_

She had looked up at him, biting her lip as she stared off into the distance. _"Robert... I might know who I am now. But..."_

_"But...?"_

Running her hand through her hair, Sophie shook her head. _"But there's so many things I wish I could understand..."_

_"And do you think that this Silas will answer anything? Sophie, it's insane."_

That had sealed the conversation. She had caught the next taxi she could, flashing him a confident smile before disappearing along the road towards London. Robert should have known better... Sophie was unstoppable when it came to the unknown. If there was any possibilty that Silas would satisfy her curiosity...

"Damn it," Robert groaned as another thought reared its ugly head. He rolled off the bed and walked towards the hotel window.

He had taken Sophie out for dinner after picking her up at the hospital, opting to spend what was supposed to be his final day in Europe with the woman that had so easily captured his attentions. The ride to the resturaunt had been a silent one, however, and the conversation at the table wasn't much better.

Picking at her food, Sophie finally set down her fork and folded her hands in her lap. _"I have to go back, Robert."  
_

_"Go back? What for?"_

_"Not tonight... tomorrow. There's something there ... I know it. I saw it in his eyes. If I just had more time..."_

_"Sophie..."_

_"Robert,"_ she retorted, a hint of steel in her tone.

_"...I'll take you back in the morning. But I'm going with you."_

She had smiled, picking up her fork and eating her dinner. The rest of the night passed with barely a word spoken between them. Sophie had accepted Robert's offer to drive her to a hotel but there was no luck in that, either. She'd spent the entire ride staring out the window, absently rubbing her wrist. Robert had figured that if Sophie wanted to talk about it, she would do so in her own time.

_"Thank you, Robbie,"_ she said when he'd brought her to the door of her suite. Leaning over, Sophie had kissed him on the cheek and vanished inside. _"See you tomorrow!"_

If anyone knew how to pluck his strings, surely it was the enigma called Sophie. It was endearing as it was disconcerting.

Coming back to the present, Robert glanced at the clock. Half past one and Fache had yet to call back. Every moment of the three days left was precious and Robert felt time slipping away. Images of what Silas could do to Sophie flooded back into his mind. The albino had offered to bring her back... _alive. _Did that mean unharmed? In all of Robert's experience, which was admittedly not enough compared to any police officer, no matter what a man professed his morals to be, when a sadistic man kidnapped a woman and had her alone...

His worries were calmed slightly as he reminded himself that Sophie, of all women, was not one to be a victim. The memory was fresh of a moment not too long ago when Sophie had delivered Silas a swift kick to the jaw. The man would have his hands full, that was for sure, if he attempted to hurt her in any way.

_Give him hell, Sophie. You're the only one who can get into his head now,_ he thought wistfully.

_And maybe,_ his mind whispered demurely, _that is what you fear._

The sudden ring of the phone was a welcome relief from the turmoil of his own mind. Robert snatched the phone, eager to hear the voice on the other end. "Fache?"

"Oui. We have success, monsieur," the captain said cheerfully on the other end.

Despite his pleasant tone, there was an undercurrent of concern which Robert could almost feel, and it caused his headache to pulsate. "What are we doing then?"

Twirling the cord of the phone, Fache looked at his computer screen. "We are going to pray, monsieur, that our Sophie keeps her temper in check for three more days. I've found a perfectly legal way for Silas to get all the information he likes, directly from the source."

Robert stared. "How?"

"I'm sure you know of a man by the name of Aringarosa."

"His name is familiar, yes. He's a member of Opus Dei."

The captain nodded. "And Silas' mentor. I'm sure that if Aringarosa knew that his Silas was still alive, with a little bit of convincing, he would sing for his adoptive son... no?"

Slowly, Robert began to put the pieces together. A whole world of possibilities opened and it was a world where he and Sophie finally had the advantage. _We're not going to do what I think we are, _Robert wondered, _are we?_

Inside his office, Fache continued speaking as he wrote down Aringarosa's hospital room number. "Think of it as a game of chess, Langdon," he said. "Monsieur Silas may have our little queen... but _we _have his Bishop."

_Yes. Yes, we are._

Robert grinned. "Checkmate."


	9. Trust

_"I many times thought peace had come,_

_When peace was far away;_

_As wrecked men deem they sight the land_

_At centre of the sea,_

_And struggle slacker, but to prove,_

_As hopelessly as I,_

_How many fictitious shores_

_Before the harbor lie."_

Midnight.

The witching hour, Sophie's grandfather once called it. She remembered the first time she had stayed up until midnight. New Year's Eve. Her grandfather explained to Sophie the magical overtones of that time of night.

_"Solar midnight,"_ he said, _"is the direct opposite of solar noon and thought to open the gates to the Underworld. It is a time when ghosts appear; since communicating with ghosts is thought to be an ability of witches, midnight became known as the 'witching hour.'"_

Silas only spoke to give her directions. With the tense silence hanging in the air and pitch black night surrounding the car from every side, it was easy to see how midnight could have been seen as the perfect time to summon spirits. At first, she thought the creeping feeling along her spine was her mind playing tricks on her and she chastised herself for worrying about superstitions.

But the feeling refused to leave her. There was a disturbing anticipation filling the space around her, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Her heart thumped in a strange fashion as her inution dragged her eyes off the road, the feeling of being watched making her skin crawl.

Sophie glanced to her left, not too surprised to see a pair of ruby orbs glancing back. The intensity of Silas' gaze made her stomach tighten and Sophie looked back at their path. If she didn't know any better, she would have entertained the thought that the gates to the ghostly realms _had_ opened up in her car and deposited a devil-eyed specter right into her passenger seat.

No, the pale being beside her was a mortal man. Somehow, that was almost as frightening.

Now that her adreniline rush had faded, her common sense came back in waves and she found herself growing uneasy. Silas had stopped giving her directions nearly ten minutes ago, never once telling her where they were heading. Before the hotel, before the hospital, Sophie could have predicted... But if Silas was leading her into a trap... what would be waiting for her on the other end of the long dirt road they were driving upon. It would have been easy to assume him to be purely a marionette, as Robert had seemed comfortable to do.

That was before. Sophie couldn't assume such a thing. She had seen, more than once, that Silas was more than a toy of Opus Dei. There was a calculating coldness behind his crimson hues, a smouldering passion for vengence and a sharpened intelligence like the hidden dagger beneath the assassin's cloak; one never knew it was there until it was too late.

This, she had realized too late. All she could do now was find out where the assassin's dagger was aimed.

Sophie frowned, wiping the sweat from her palm onto her pants. Opus Dei had deceived Silas and he knew it. If that had been enough to cut his strings, no matter how much he had been brainwashed, it didn't change that fact that people were dead and he had been the one to pull the trigger. If Silas had, as it seemed, cut the strings that connected him with Opus Dei, it was a frightening thing to wonder where that volatile anger and cunning would be directed... and to what ends.

Tiny numbers on the car's dashboard read that it was one o' clock. Sophie had been driving for an hour without stopping, glancing at the rearview mirror every two minutes. It had been a little over an hour since Robert had called and Silas had made a strange ultimatum.

_"Bring everything the police and anyone else has on offenses made by Opus Dei to Notre Dame de la Garde by Thursday night..."_

She had been so busy trying to drive that Sophie hadn't questioned what Silas was saying to Robert. If he wanted records, well, that wasn't her problem. The broken out back window and men shooting at her _were _her problem and everything else had taken second place on the priority list.

_"If you do this, you might see Mademoiselle Neveu alive again. Understood?"_

Until Silas had said that, anyhow. Suddenly, every word Silas even whispered took priority. Who were the people that had chased them? He had gotten her out of the hotel, of course, but to who's benefit? Sophie began to wonder.

She slowed the car to a stop as a rabbit crossed the path, staring wide-eyed into the headlights. Waiting, her mind began to run with half-formed questions and concerns that finally had the time to surface. Silas had promised he wasn't going to kill her, but what good was that promise? He had attacked before. Sophie's hand rose to touch her throat, where a small scratch still remained from the knife that had once been held there. He killed without hesitation, all at the command of Opus Dei.

_But, _she desperately protested in her mind, _is he still under their command? _She didn't know and the severity of the situation finally sunk in. She was stuck in the wilderness with God knew how many people after her head and the only one she had to rely on was a murderer.

Images of the knife against her neck danced in her mind, followed by his velvet voice whispering next to her ear. The glinting gun pointed at her, the shattered listening device laying useless on the floor. The subtle threat over the phone, the feel of his fingers twined with hers...

Killer. Saviour. Was there a difference anymore?

_Stop it, Sophie. _Biting her lip, she ran her hand across her eyes, wiping away the forming tears of fatigue and frustration. The rabbit still stared at her from its spot on the road, as if asking her what she was going to do.

_If I'm going to get out of this alive, _she finally decided, _I'm just going to have to trust him... for now._

She looked around, trying to clear her mind. The lights of Marseille were becoming distant dots in her review mirror and the sparse trees were thickening into deep forests. Sophie leaned foreward, trying to see through the darkness. The paved road had turned into a dirt path that seemed to go on for miles.

"Where are we, Silas?" she asked. When he didn't reply, Sophie looked over at him. "Silas?"

In the darkness, she could just make out his form, curled upon the seat. His eyes were closed and his arms were folded, chest rising and falling in steady movements. By the time the rabbit had regained its senses and hopped away, Sophie was sure of two things. Silas was sound asleep and she was totally lost.

"Damn..."

Sophie watched him a moment longer, her gaze softening. The man's predatory intensity had all but disappeared, a look of peace taking its place. His skin almost glowed in the dim light given off by the half moon overhead and, for a heartbeat, Sophie could see the angel beneath the mask of the murderous wraith.

It was there inside him, a flickering candle amidst the shadows. Sophie reached out and brushed a lock of pale hair from Silas' face. Maybe, in time, the flicker would become a flame. It would be interesting to see what lay beyond the darkness...

_Literally, as well as metaphorically,_ she thought with a sigh. Sophie put her hand back on the wheel and took her foot off the brake, slowly advancing on the dirt path. The car's clock hit half past one... Monday had officially started. She would rather have been stuck waking up to another day at the office.

It was twenty minutes later that the dirt path turned to a gravel drive. She hit a big bump and the last shard of glass still standing in the back window fell off. It lay with all the rest in the backseat, mournfully glittering in the moonlight. Sophie was about to glance over her shoulder to assess the damage when a large, iron gate suddenly rose out of the night in front of the car.

_Where has he led me?_

"My god," Sophie whispered, looking up and up at the huge barrier. "It can't be..."

Stamped on the gate was a _fleur de lis_.


	10. Past

"Except to heaven, she is nought;

Except for angels, lone;

Except to some wide-wandering bee,

A flower superflous blown;

Except for winds, provincial;

Except by butterflies,

Unnoticed as a single dew

That on the acre lies.

The smallest housewife in the grass,

Yet take her from the lawn,

And somebody has lost the face

That made existence home!"

_"Arrêt, Henri! Stop this madness!"_

_Cowering in the corner, Silas could only whimper. His knees scraped along the cold floor as he tried to crawl away from the screams of his mother. Jagged cuts opened up along his knees, but in the eyes of a seven year old, anything was better than the awful screaming and the smell of liquor radiating from his father._

_"Madness?" the man screamed back. "Madness, you call it! Ever since that _diable blanc _came into this world, there has been nothing but madness! "_

_The sound of hand against cheek cracked through the air. "How dare you! He is our son!"_

_"He is the son of the Devil!"_

_Silas' eyes swept the room, searching. "Belle? Belle, venez!" he called softly._

_A small dog peeked from under a table, her ears pressed against her white-furred head. She made a move to obey the command, creeping out from under the table and towards Silas, but retreated again when the sound of heavy footsteps thundered down the hall and towards the living room._

_Terror seized Silas as a huge figure stormed into the room, watery blye eyes narrowed in hatred and lip curled up into a sneer of contempt. His father strode towards him, snatching a belt off the nearby chair._

_"Come here, you worthless curr!"_

_Recoiling against the wall, Silas began to tremble. "I didn't do anything, father! Please!"_

_Stars exploded in front of his eyes as a swift kick connected with his ribcage, forcing Silas to his hands and knees. Two more kicks left the boy gasping for air and bleeding, fingers uselessly digging into the wood floor._

_"You didn't?" the man snarled, raising the belt. "Did you do outside and play with those children next door?"_

_Silas choked back his tears. "Y-yes, father, b-but..."_

_"MONGREL!"_

_The belt came down with a crack; once, twice, three times. Screams echoed through the room. Silas realized they were his own. Fire seemed to cross over his back and the world around him blurred. Over and over the belt came down, making the air sing with its power._

_"What did I tell you, you stupid monster?"_

_"Never be s-seen, father!"_

_"What else?"_

_"Never be h-heard, father!"_

_The blows stopped. His father's angry breathing sent the smell of whiskey into the air. "What are you supposed to be?"_

_Silas felt his throat close. "I...I..."_

_CRACK! _

_The belt slammed upon his raw flesh. "__SAY IT, damn you! SAY IT!"_

_"I'm invisible!" the child wailed. "Invisible!"_

_The roar from his father shook the house. "THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU STAY THAT WAY?" _

_CRACK! _

_"Diable!"_

_The ability to speak left Silas as the belt cut into his raw flesh. Blood pooled to the surface of his skin, trickling down his bruised sides. What was the point of living? He knew once, didn't he...?_

_CRACK!_

_"Demon!"_

_Was he even alive?_

_CRACK!_

_"Fantôme!"_

_Silas felt tears sting his eyes. If it wasn't the children in the streets that pointed and laughed, then it was his father with the belt in one hand and a whiskey bottle in the other. _

_CRACK!_

_"Inutile!"_

_Again and again came the names. Again and again came the belt. Silas felt his knees begin to give way. Was this the third time or the fourth, this week?_

_CRACK!_

_"I'll kill you, bastard child!"_

_"Belle!" Silas cried, common sense having fled long ago. "Belle! Aidez-moi, svp!"_

_The father snarled as the small ball of fur shot out from under the table. The dog bit into the man's leg, growling through a mouthful of fabric and skin. The blows stopped and Silas scrambled away from the drunk man, trying to get to the door. _

Escape_, his mind howled, _escape...

_A yelp of pain caused the young boy to turn as he stood. His father had grabbed the dog, blood flowing across the floor from puncture marks. Silas screamed, running back towards his father._

_"BELLE!"_

_The small dog hit the wall before Silas could reach her, body laying limp on the floor. Sinking to the ground, tears flowed down his pale face as he touched his pet, stroking her soft, bloodied muzzle. _

Protector...friend...

_"Henri! Why!" his mother cried from the doorway of the room._

_"Your cursed spawn set the bitch on me! The bitch got what she de-"_

_Silas was on his feet in seconds, fist connecting with his father's face. Crimson dripped from the mans' nose and before Silas could think, his fathers' hands were around Silas' throat, squeezing._

_"Fiend!" he hissed, spitting in the boy's face. "Hideous monstre!"_

_Air... there was no air..._

_"STOP!"_

_The woman lunged towards her husband, striking with the fury only a mother could possess. Surprised at first, Silas' father let go, turning on his wife. Silas fell to the ground as his father broke the whiskey bottle against the wall, watching in a daze as the jagged glass sunk into his mother's chest, over and over._

_His father kept stabbing. "Viper! Go to hell with your demon and his bitch!"_

_Sabines' body fell with a thump and the murder weapon fell to the ground beside her. Silas stared, his mind and eyes filled with pools of red. His father stared back at him, then began to laugh. He laughed and laughed until the sound became a wild cackle, fading into a drunken giggle._

_"Rot with your witch and your bitch," the man slurred, stumbling towards the bedroom. "Witch, bitch, demon..."_

_The door slammed, leaving the boy in silence and blood. Silas looked around, unblinking. Finally, he reached out towards the ball of lifeless fur that had once been his dog, holding her in his arms and rocking gently._

_"Belle," Silas whispered. "Mon petite Belle... je t'aime. I will never forget you."_

_Rising to his feet, Silas set his pet's body next to that of his mother, giving her soft fur one last stroke. "Bonne nuit."_

_Tears faded away as a coldness settled in his chest. Silas gazed at his mother, then slowly turned his eyes to the fireplace. A dagger, used for opening letters, shone bright with promise upon the mantle. His feet moved his body and his hand closed around the handle, the coldness of the metal matching that in his heart._

_Tonight, it would serve a better purpose than opening letters._

"Silas..."

_Such a perfect tool. The door to the bedroom opened and Silas glided inside. Unseen...unheard...invisible..._

_A ghost._

"Silas?"

_His father lay on the bed, covered in blood and liquor. The man snored through his broken nose, oblivious to the glint of metal that rose into the air above his chest._

"Please..."

_The man woke with a yell as the blade plunged into his flesh. Silas had poor aim then; his young hand shook as it stabbed over and over. Suddenly, the eyes of his father glazed, empy. Silas stopped. The dagger dropped from his hand._

"...Wake up."

_Cold. Everything was cold. Taking a step away from the body, Silas suddenly spun as a hand grabbed his shoulder, striking at the invisible intruder._

"OW!"

Silas sat up straight at the yowl of pain. "Wh...what..."

Sophie rubbed her arm, scowling from the driver's seat of the car. "I think we're here," she said, glaring at him and pointing at the gate.

The dream began to fade as his waking mind took over, pushing the images as far from memory as possible. Silas closed his eyes. The past was never more than a night's sleep away...

"Are you okay?"

He tried to laugh, though it came out hollow. "It was only a dream. But you're right... we're here. Let me go wake our dear hostess."

She watched him step out of the car, frowning. "You must have been having one hell of a dream..."

The fact that she wasn't angry at him was surprising enough. Silas couldn't handle the concern, and walked across the gravel without a reply. If he accepted her sympathy... if he acknowledged the pain... if he spoke, everything would come out.

Everything.

_Hell, little sprite? That, _he thought darkly, _doesn't even begin to cover it._


	11. Truth

"A wounded deer leaps highest,

I 've heard the hunter tell;

'T is but the ecstasy of death,

And then the brake is still.

The smitten rock that gushes,

The trampled steel that springs:

A cheek is always redder

Just where the hectic stings!

Mirth is the mail of anguish,

In which it caution arm,

Lest anybody spy the blood

And "You're hurt" exclaim!"

_"He's dead."_

_Bishop Manuel Aringarosa stared at captain Fache from the hospital bed, unable to speak. "Dead? But... he can't be dead."_

_Fache's gruff look turned sympathetic. "I'm afraid they found his body in Kensington Gardens."_

_The tears came as the hospital room faded away, replaced by a chapel with the sun shining through the stained glass, lighting the room in glorious color. A cloaked figure could be seen ahead, kneeling at the alter with his back turned to Manuel. Even so, the Bishop knew who was praying._

_"My Silas," the Bishop whispered, his throat closing. "My son."_

_The young man stood, turning to glance back. Sunbeams streamed through the arched window behind him, shimmering off his ivory skin and pale hair, creating a crown of golden light._

_"Father," Silas whispered. "...Why?"_

Manuel's eyes opened, tears spilling down his cheeks. _Only a dream, _he thought with a choked sob, _and nothing more. _He would never see Silas again... Not in this lifetime. They had both been betrayed and Silas had been lost because of it. The Bishop's hand clenched; even his dreams mocked him.

_Why, indeed, _Manuel sighed. Why hadn't he seen that they were all being deceived? The memory of Silas, eyes wild with panic as he turned and fired the gun, was almost too much to bear. It was unholy, that kind of fear... the kind that blinded a man's distinction of friend and foe. The true horror had been the young man's pale skin, bright crimson streaming from an ugly wound to his side.

_The sacrifice. _Manuel rubbed at his eyes, trying to forget. _The lamb that was slain, so that I could live._

_"I will find the one that deceived us," _Silas had said as Manuel lost conciousness. _"And I will kill him."_

Perhaps, then, being shot had been fitting punishment for the Bishop. Had he not been the one to agree to the Teacher's plans? Had he not been the one that used Silas' loyalty as a weapon against the enemies of the church?

... Had he not been the one that was responsible for Silas' death?

The thought opened a new wound of agony inside Manuel. Just as fresh tears began to well up in his eyes, a soft ringing noise came from underneath his pillow. He reached for it as best as he could, finally reaching it after nearly yanking the IV needle from his arm. The cell phone had gone silent, causing him to scowl. It soon began to ring again.

Manuel grumbled, wiping his dripping nose and flipping the phone open. "Aringarosa..."

"This is Bezu Fache. We need to talk."

Sitting up a bit straighter, the Bishop cleared his throat. "Captain. You call at a strange time of night."

"Skip the formality. We are going to be working together very soon, you and I."

The strained note in the captain's voice made Manuel frown. "Why do you say this?"

Fache let out a long sigh. "Bishop Aringarosa, Silas... He is alive."

With a click, Manuel hung up the phone and let it slide from his hand onto the bed. Everything seemed to swirl as the captain's words sunk into his mind. Silas was alive... It couldn't be true. It's couldn't! Fache had told Manuel himself that Silas was dead! But if it was true... if it was true, then... there was a chance to make things right. Silas could forgive him... They could return to working on Opus Dei together, like they always had done.

When the phone began to ring again, the Bishop eagerly picked it up. "Fache? Forgive me, I'm ..."

"Shocked, I imagine."

"But I don't understand, Bezu. You told me Silas was dead... How is it that he's alive?"

The captain hesitated. "I was mistaken. Silas went into surgery approximately twenty minutes after you. The same surgeon worked on you both."

Manuel felt giddy. "Then he is here, in the hospital?"

From his side of the phone, Fache closed his eyes. "I'm afraid not. You see, Bishop, that is why I called."

"I... I don't understand."

"Saturday night, Silas was checked out of the hospital by the surgeon to a man who did not identify himself. A girl by the name of Sophie Neveu had been attempting to speak with Silas. She disappeared Sunday."

A pit opened in Manuel's heart. Silas was missing. Sophie Neveu, the granddaughter of the Grand Master of the Priory of Sion... and she was missing. That did not bode well. He thought back to the other time Silas and another person had both disappeared ...

"However..." Fache continued, "Sunday night, Robert Langdon attempted to call Sophie Neveu on her cellphone."

"Did she pick up?" Manuel asked hopefully.

"...Silas did."

Manuel nearly dropped the phone again. After struggling to find the words, he spoke. "Did he... Is she alive?"

"Oui, the Mademoiselle is alive."

"Thank Heaven," Manuel sighed. Spawn of the Priory or not, there had already been enough blood spilled.

Fache grumbled. "Don't thank Heaven yet."

The Bishop frowned. "Why?"

As the captain detailed Silas' demands, Manuel felt the blood in his face drain away. With a trembling hand, he listened to every word as though it were the last, pleading to God that Fache was lying.

Finally, Fache came to his conclusion. "We have three days and then we will go to Marseille. You are going to get Mademoiselle Neveu back alive. I don't care what you tell your student in order to do so. But considering it involves illegal activity, remember this... Silas will not be the only one listening."

"I understand, Captain."

"Three days. Be ready."

The line went dead and the Bishop set the phone down on the bedside table. He closed his eyes, the wound in his chest burning more than ever.

_What has Silas become... _Manuel remembered a time, years ago, when the young man had a light touch and was softly spoken. That young man was no longer; he had turned from a distant, solitary angel into an icy, marble statue. _What, _the Bishop thought sadly, _have I done?_

All these years, Silas had never asked for more than a bed to sleep upon or a meal to eat and the Bishop had always provided such... and more. Beneath the cold, experience-tempered sheen of Silas' crimson eyes, Manuel had seen the child-like craving for acceptance. It hadn't been an easy thing, winning the albino's faith. Time and Misery had been good teachers.

Even so, loving words and desire for kindness proved to be a powerful cocktail and the next time that Manuel had gone to America, Silas had followed at heel better than a trained pup. The young man soon followed Opus Dei's doctrine obsessively. It had been no surprise to Manuel that Silas chose a vow of celibacy, nor was it a surprise when he donned the _cilice_...

It _had_ been a surprise when Silas agreed to leaving New York and aiding Manuel in the Teacher's plans. It had been frighteningly perfect. It wasn't until they reached Europe that he learned exactly what Silas had become and, though Manuel acted no differently towards his chosen son, every time the Bishop saw those eyes, he shuddered inside. Silas would work for Manuel, speak for Manuel and offer support for Manuel in every decision.

Silas would kill for Manuel. And he did, with a cool detachment that was every killer's envy.

_But he did it for God, _Manuel's mind argued. _In the name of all of Christianity._

_No, _his soul hissed in reply. _He did it for the God that _you_ convinced him existed..._

The Bishop opened his eyes, looking towards his black briefcase that leaned against the far wall. Fache had removed the bonds from inside, dividing them between the families of the Priory members Silas had killed, as the Bishop requested. What Fache hadn't removed, however, was the very thing that Silas desired.

Groaning, Manuel forced himself up and off the bed. Pain radiated from his chest and arm as he slowly walked towards the briefcase. The IV stand followed, the squeaking wheels halting as he came to a stop in front of the table. Manuel grasped the briefcase, opening it and staring at the inside of the leather top. The thin little slit across the very top was barely visible, unless one knew where to look. The Bishop sighed, sliding his hand into the pouch and pulling out its contents.

The black, leather-bound book was almost an inch thick and the symbol across the cover glittered golden in the moonlight. Manuel knew that upon it's yellowed, musty parchment pages lay the one thing he had both guarded and loathed since the day he had found Silas. He knew on the day that he had dug through the public records in Marseille that, eventually, it would come to this.

But now that it had, Manuel Aringarosa stood trembling. This, he knew, combined with the Neveu woman... Silas would know everything. Opus Dei would be finished and God protect Manuel from whatever followed. The Bishop had given Silas all the things he had ever asked for, but the albino had never thought to ask for the one thing that would have kept the blood from his snow-white hands.

Manuel gazed upon the book's cover, his eyes focused on the golden _fleur de lis_ symbol. Once Silas had both the book and the Descendant within his reach, he would have the one thing the Bishop had never given him.

The Truth.


	12. Light

_"Our share of night to bear, _

_Our share of morning, _

_Our blank in bliss to fill, _

_Our blank in scorning. _

_Here a star, and there a star,_

_Some lose their way. _

_Here a mist, and there a mist, _

_Afterwards-- day!"_

The symbol of the _fleur de lis_.

_The Holy Trinity. Father, Son and Holy Ghost._

So many meanings over so many centuries.

_Light, protection..._

It seemed strange to stand before the iron gate, the three-petaled flower blazing across the bars. It wasn't even three days ago that he would have shot someone wearing that symbol without question. And now, here he stood, staring up to it as if in a plea for sanctuary.

_Perfection..._

It was that last meaning that caused his hand to hover over the intercom's button. He had thought Opus Dei to be the symbol of perfection. Silas had tried to hold onto the last threads of faith that had once been his pillars of strength but as the night had worn on and he found himself standing before the familiar gate, doubt sliced through the last frayed thread.

His side throbbed in pain, a fitting reminder of what truly came from helping Opus Dei. Would a symbol that stood for the ultimate perfection even allow one who had been so tainted to pass its borders? Silas now knew that he couldn't be anything less than tainted, having been blatently betrayed by the very order he had once trusted beyond reason... The very order he had abandoned reason to follow, so eager he had been to start a new life as something other than a murderer.

_And what did I become, _he mused, _but a murderer _and _a puppet? _

The only thing that kept him from pressing the button was memories of the Bishop. It was the Bishop that had led Silas to God, to the power and wisdom of the Almighty. It had also been the Bishop that went with the Teacher and the Teacher that summoned Silas as the chosen weapon. It had only been a matter of hours since another bearing the title "Teacher" attempted the same.

The Bishop, leader of Opus Dei, had created Silas the Angel. The Bishop, follower of the Teacher, had created Silas the Assassin.

An image of the phone call, revealing the last layer of deception that Silas would withstand. Such a disgusting little Pandora's Box but the anger came from the knowledge that the woman who held that phone was right and the Teachers had been so very wrong... as was the Bishop.

The Bishop was the only one who had been kind to Silas, the only one who cared. Until now.

An image of Sophie flickered through Silas' mind, a memory of soothing words and an almost naive, innocent trust. Two emerald eyes that looked down the barrel of his gun... and saw _him._

Those eyes had stripped away everything Silas thought he had known in mere seconds and along the dark, twisted path of his mind, Silas could see a faint light breaking over the horizon.

Everyone else had created an Angel of Death, spun from the anger and sorrow that clawed at the last shreds of Silas' sanity. With nothing but an empty, blood-stained shell to use, what would Sophie, Daughter of the Priory, create?

_Hope, _his mind murmured. _Faith, trust... and... _Shaking his head, Silas brought himself back into the present. Those thoughts would serve no good. He looked up from the intercom and looked at the shimmering flower. And yet...

_Divinity, light, protection and perfection... So the _fleur de lis _represents. I cannot be perfect, _Silas thought, turning his eyes towards the car. _I am not Divine. But the least I can do, after all this, is protect her... the only torch of light I carry._

With a defeated sigh, he pressed the metal button and began to speak.

Sophie watched from the car but looked away when Silas glanced in her direction, absentmindedly rubbing her arm. Sophie hadn't cared so much about the fact that Silas had struck out at her in his sleep; the red mark upon her skin would fade eventually. It was the look in his eyes that had truly hurt Sophie's heart as he woke from what could only have been a nightmare.

The haunted glint in Silas' eyes told her that it had been such. Sophie had seen that look staring back at her in the mirror too many times as a child. How many times had her Grandfather gotten bruised when trying to rouse her from a hellish dream? She couldn't remember, nor could she remember the dreams themselves, but she had waken too many times to the sound of her own screams to make an effort. Some things were better left buried.

"But I do wonder," Sophie thought out loud, "What happened."

"Not much."

She nearly jumped out of her skin as the seemingly sudden reappearance of Silas in the seat beside her. "Wh...How... I didn't even know you were there!"

The slightly amused look on his face died. "Not many do," Silas said shortly.

Although she wanted to protest, to explain that she hadn't meant it like that, he had already turned away. As the iron gates before them swung open as is by magic, Sophie shifted the car into drive. "I'm sorry," she managed to murmur.

It was a few moments before he spoke. "I know," he replied, just as quietly. "You should hurry. That gate isn't going to stay open forever and I doubt our hostess would like to be disturbed again."

Without another word, Sophie removed her foot from the brake and drove down the pathway. The sound of the gate closing behind them with a clang sent chills down her spine and yet a sense of peace began to fill her heart the closer they got to their destination. If she could have seen Silas' expression, Sophie would have seen that the man beside her felt the same way. Whether it was the nearly fortress-like effect provided by the thick forest lining the path or the knowledge that safety may be close at hand, she didn't know, but by the time the pathway opened into a circular gravel drive, she felt almost serene.

"Where... Oh my god, it's beautiful!" Sophie exclaimed, stopping the car to peer out her window at the three-story mansion.

"It is," Silas replied, the corners of his mouth tilting up into a small smile. "Do you like it?"

"I... I... How did you... I mean, you know who lives here?"

He tried not to laugh but a tiny snort escaped. "I have a very old friend. Ah, there's where you can park."

Sophie, still stunned at the red brick monster of a house, glanced where Silas pointed. A small ramp appeared to descend into the ground; she bit her lip and drove down. The ramp led down a few feet before opening into an underground garage. As she drove inside, a solid steel grate slammed down behind the car, causing Sophie to jump in her seat for what felt like the tenth time that night. At first there was only the glimmer of the car's headlights, but soon, an overhead light clicked on and Sophie could see where she had been led.

Inside the cement structure, there was plenty of space for at least five cars. Only one other car besides hers was in the garage, however... a gleaming, cherry red Rolls Royce. Sophie parked a few spaces away, feeling almost ashamed to park her beat-up automobile next to the metal deity.

"You have quite the friend," she commented, turning off her car. Sophie kept her hands on the wheel, hesitant to let go just yet. What kind of people did Silas know that they could afford such luxurious things? She would have considered someone of Opus Dei, but the _fleur de lis _at the gates had stomped on that idea.

Silas allowed himself to look in her direction, though he tried to keep his gaze just over Sophie's shoulder. "She was my friend long before Opus Dei. I had hoped that she wouldn't have forgotten me."

She turned her head, scanning his face. "It would be difficult to forget you."

His eyes wandered to meet her own but by the time Silas caught himself, it was too late. Those green depths held him like a vice, drawing him down into an abyss, and he found himself falling once again. Little did he know, Sophie found herself in the same predicament; his crimson orbs would have held her in suspension for an eternity. What seemed like an hour was only a single heartbeat, and as Silas raised his hand to gently brush back a lock of amber hair from her face, the moment was shattered by a sudden jab in his shoulder.

"Stop acting like a couple of teenagers and get out of there. Silas, I thought you had more manners than that. Back when I was your age..."

Sophie's eyes widened at the cane that poked through the window and even more so at the gruff voice which came from outside the car. She giggled nervously as Silas rolled his crimson eyes, letting out a stifled moan and turning the course of his hand to open the door. Taking a cue from his grumpy expression, Sophie swallowed the urge to burst out laughing as she opened her own door, sliding out from the car to view their hostess.

Dressed in a pink, fuzzy bathrobe and bunny slippers, the elderly woman leaned on her polka dot cane with one hand and held a giant white cat over her shoulder with the other. The tiny old lady was looking Silas up and down, shaking her head in what could have only been described as disgust. Silas looked like he wanted to crawl into the nearest corner.

"Men used to open doors for ladies! Poor thing, I can only imagine what the woman's been through tonight. Look at the car! Did you almost get her shot? You better not have almost gotten her shot..."

Silas glanced at Sophie with a look of pure helplessness. "I didn't almost get her shot," he muttered. "Quite the opposite."

Following Silas' gaze, the old woman peered at Sophie through a pair of large pink glasses outlined in rhinestones. "Ohhh... This must be the special lady!" she squealed, shuffling over and poking at Sophie's leg with her cane. "Well, hello there sweetheart. Might I get a name?"

Smiling, Sophie reached out to scratch behind the cat's ears. "Sophie Neveu, Madame," she said, feeling satisfied when the giant fluffball began to purr. "And you two are...?"

"This would be Prince Charles," the old lady smiled back, a fae humor glinting in her eyes as she bowed slightly, revealing a shimmering pentacle necklace at her throat. "And I am Maxine Beatrice LeFebvre, owner of this fine property... and Silas' grandmother."


End file.
